Growing Wings
by Casper1234
Summary: A story with many stories. A life with many lives. A heart with many feelings. An individual with many reasoning's. An individual who, you cant help but feel, like you're growing wings, too.
1. Prelude

Nothing felt right, anymore.

Nothing felt safe, anymore.

Nothing felt normal, anymore.

Nor pretty.

Nor special.

Nor important.

Nor worthy.

Nor happy.

Nothing.

What did I feel?

Sad.

Angry.

Frustrated.

Worthless.

Hopeless.

Ashamed.

Disgusted.

Pathetic.

Useless.

Dirty.

Unwanted.

Childish.

Ugly.

A loser.

Washed up.

If I could just rewind time...if only I could just go back. Tell myself, no, dont go down that road, it'll mess your whole life up.

But here I am.

On my knees again.

Caught up in pain like an avalanche.

Nothing compares to this sorrow

This pain

This life

Tearing at my heart.


	2. Unhappy Ocean

i'm so unhappy. i am SO UNHAPPY. I AM SO UNHAPPY. i cannot express how unhappy i am. it sinks in my chest. like an anchor. it weighing me down. i feel like im sinking deep into some sort of ocean. an not a good ocean, a bad one. an unhappy ocean. i just want to run away. far far far far far far away. 


	3. Unhappy pt 2

this feeling is just radiatong in my chest like a heater, except it doesnt make you feel good...i feel so...unhappy. i'm so unhappy. is this apart of grieving? what is this? i dont know. lately, that's been my thing. "I dont know" because i just dont know...i honestly dont know. i cant even cry. i feel like i try to get attention when i cry. i feel BAD for feeling this way, like, geeze i should stop. that's how i feel and i know i shouldnt feel and i know this stuff takes time but all i feel is it just buidling up inside me. inside my fingers, my toes, up my arms and my legs, filling every single blood cell, clogging every vein...i cant even think straight. i dont feel right. i feel unhappy. i feel disconnected. i just want to go somewhere. i cant go to mcqueeney because it holds way too many memories. just thinking about it right now makes me sad. makes me want to cry, but i cant cry. i cant. everyone is coming to me with all their issues and that' fine but i feel like...i dont know. i feel like i need time too but then i feel selfish for even feeling that. i'm forgetful. i'm rude. i feel rude. i want to be happy. i sigh alot hoping that it will leave or i'd feel some release like i usually feel when i sigh but it's just becoming an expression for how i feel. unhappy. i am so unhappy. 


	4. Mongo

Do you ever wonder where you would be, if things were different from what they are now? do you wonder what kind of person you would of turned out to be, if a certain thing didnt change who you were and your whole outlook on life, permanately? do you ever just...look back on things, wish you could just turn them around? be that hand held out for someone, be that strength when they cant stand on their own?dont you ever just wish you had all the words to say to take away their pain? dont you wish you could do something in some way to make that other person smile, and truly mean it? dont you ever just wonder what your struggles would be like, if things were different. if you werent married, or didnt have kids, or if you didnt meet this person or do this that lead to that. what if what if what it...sometimes, i wonder, all the time. what would it be like for me, if i could just know the future, if i could just see. but, knowing me it takes learning. it takes expression. it takes growing. things seem so crazy at the moment and time and then when it's over you're like man that was still crazy but you say it with a tone that makes you wiser...I'm listening to this song that reminds me so much of my brother. i think alot, what or how would i be if i knew caleb was going to die...it hurts to even say that, type it, whatever...I keep re-reading it. None of this feels real. It doesnt feel like he's gone. I dont feel entierly connected. i feel like i'm so disassociated with alot of things right now. i have to remind myself that caleb is dead. My brother. Caleb James McCormack is dead...i'm not typing this for emphasis. I'm typing to believe...all i can do is sit here and stare at my hands and wonder. and think. i go away and cry and wish someone would just go find me and hug me then i think "God, what is wrong with me?" am i just seeking attention? i dont know. I dont know. I just dont know. I just...wish...i could see him. or hear his voice. I want so bad to say "I wish he was here" but i know where Caleb is, and i definitely dont want him HERE when he's got everlasting peace up there. What if i knew he was going to die? If someone told me at the beginning of 2012 "You're brother is going to die in a hit and run" i would take advantage of any and every minute with him because, lets face it, i wasnt a good sister. i was hardly around. and i hate it so much. i hate that i never told him how much he really meant to me. how much i loved him. that's what makes this so hard. and maybe i just keep egging myself on because i want to feel the sorrow, i dont know...i know i shouldnt feel like this. but i cant keep myself strong. I need God. I need Him...I need Him. I cant express that enough. and yet, i say it but i'm still being an idiot, head up my butt. I dont know. I just wish i would of talked to Caleb more. got to really know him...and if he would of never died? where would i be? the same. never around. i think about what i could of told caleb. how i could of helped him...i guess that's what this is all about. is just how much i wish i could of been there, REALLY. I was there, but not as much as i should. i wish that i could just look him in the eye and tell him i love you. I wish i could see him smile. i wish i could of told him that i would of always always been there for him. that he's got me and that i love him...when i think about how he was treated, the crap he got from dad, i get so angry and hurt. i wish i was there to save him. i wish that i could of done something...sometimes, recently, any time i'm in mcqueeney, i'd walk to where caleb died and just sit there...that's when it becomes real. i'm waiting to explode. to just break down. when i was there last time, i lit that candle that someone put there and just sat and cried. and i wondered how it would of been if i was there when he got hit. i could of held him. i could of told him, hang on caleb. just hang on. i love you so much. i love you so much. i love you so much. i really love you so much.i would of looked him in the eyes and said look at me, just keep looking at me. dont close your eyes. i would of prayed my heart out. i would of begged God. But i know that God saved him...i just wish i was there. i would of held him as the amnbulance came and told him that i'll buy him 500000000 bags of hot cheetos and big red, just as long as he stayed with me. i would of told him that he can live with me. I would of told him how funny he was and how we needed funny guys like him to stay around. none of this feels right or real, but it's teaching me to NEVER take advantage of someone you love. NEVER. i would tear time to just let him know just how much he meant to me. i guess this is just apart of my life and who it makes me. yeah, i wonder all the time, clearly, what it would be like otherwise. i miss caleb. so much. 


	5. Skin and Bones

I look at my body alot. I remember the two years of absolute hell I put myself through. Of the two years of working out nearly 6 hours a day, with maybe a scrap of meat in my body. Two years of throwing up if someone made me eat food, using the lame excuse, "I'm going to wash my hands." Two years of never being good enough. Of how I still needed to lose weight. I needed control. Two years of being HAPPY when I could see my bones stick out, the sick joy it gave me that, maybe, I'm beautiful. The two years of draining, draining. My skin placid, thin, cold. I was ALWAYS cold. Two years of being told over and over "You're melting away." Two years of feeling weak and hopeless. Of playing a sick game of russian roulette. Of being close to death. What's so great about weight 95 pounds? What's so great about looking so thin you could blow away? How is that beauty? How is placid skin, no period, bile, exhaustion, weakness, lack of energy, being freezing..how is that beautiful? How does sticking a tooth brush down my throat to make me throw up any step closer to beauty? How is it anything but the worse?


	6. Keep Growing

By now, none of you can really understand what's happening. You're probably confused, or annoyed, or intrigued, or whatever.

Keep growing.


	7. Memory 1

The slam of the bathroom door jolted me awake, along with the sound of dad's boots as he stomped down the hall, shouting, "Bye, honey, have a great day! I love you!"

"I love you, too, dad," I squeaked, the sleep not completely leaving my system just yet. Pretty soon, I heard Caleb's footsteps, too. They both stomped, everywhere. I felt like I was the only person who walked, heel toe, quietly. It must add to men's egos, or something, when they stomp like Godzilla throughout the house.

Now only if we had a bunch of little asians to run and scream about.

I drug myself out of bed to my hamper/wicker chair. It wasn't a hamper. It was a wicker chair. But it was my hamper. I just threw my clothes on it, mainly. I have a bad habit of not folding my clothes, mainly, because I dont care. I quickly got dressed, then went to the bathroom where my brother was doing his hair. No, he didnt have long hair or anything, he just did his hair. "Hey, move out of the way, I need to brush my teeth," I grumbled.

"No, wait, I'm almost done," He said, combing his hair with what looked like a horse brush.

"Caleb, you take forever, just move." I shoved him over and grabbed my toothbrush and tooth paste and began to brush my teeth.

"Hey!" He lightly shoved me back. I was still too tiered to care. Caleb took a step back from the mirror to get a better look at himself, "Ah, ah," he wiped at his shoulders, "I look fuuhh-resh, don't I?"

"No," I gurgled.

"Shut up, you just wish you looked this good."

"No."

"Yes."

"No," I cleaned my mouth with water, "I dont want to look like a 15 year old boy, sorry. I'm pretty okay with being a 17 year old girl."

I walked to my room to do my hair, put on some perfume, then I was out the door, waiting for the bus. Caleb walked around the yard, singing some gay rap song. "EEEeeeee, the other day I almost got into it with this fag from school. Maaann, talkin some mess. I almost had to kick his a**." He smiled his usual side smile, grinding his fist into his other hand.

"Caleb, you need to chill out, man. You can get in a lot of trouble."

"I dont care."

"Well, you should." I replied.

He was quiet for a second, before changing the subject. "Man, you werent here, but the other day, dad was being a dick."

I started. "What happened?"

"Well, I just came home from work, right-and you know how I work late sometimes-"

"Yeah."

"-well, he was all drunk and s*** and just starts yelling at me and pushing me."

"Why?" I asked, my voice influctuating in anger.

He shrugged, "I dont know, he was drunk and being stupid. I just went to sleep."

"I'm sorry he's like that..."

The bus came just at that moment. I watched as Caleb walked to the back of the bus where his friends were...


End file.
